FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Wes slipped his long striped tail through the slot at the back of the seat and slumped down after it. It was such a relief, seeing the glowing words '8 to Downtown' come around the corner at the end of a long day. The bus pulling up at the stop next to the office. Knowing he was finally heading home. Especially this late, when the buses were less frequent and most of the seats were empty. When the dark outside meant he could see the tired tiger in the reflection staring back at him over frazzled cheek-ruffs.

The routine was nice, a chance to relax on the way home. The doors closing. The lights near the front going out to let the driver see. The bus pulling away and the city buildings drifting by like his thoughts. The driver pulling over and slowing at the next stop, letting riders on and off, and the routine beginning again until he was just another anonymous rider. Public transit always had an interesting mix of furs. He liked being toward the back, to observe the odd little dance of finding a seat, as far from others as possible, as comfortable as possible. Finding the best seat could be challenging during the evening rush, but this late, with a handful of overly-dedicated and late-shift office workers, it was easy. He watched a buck toward the front get up to leave at the stop, making a gap in their little ecosystem for the next fare.

A fox boarded, and swiped his transit card on the machine with a beep. Wes watched the anonymous fox as he turned down the isle and scanned the sparse landscape. His eyes passed over the gap, and over Wes for that matter. He headed down the isle right past the obvious ecological niche. And by Wes. It sounded like he settled down immediately behind the cat. Wes raised his eyebrows. It was surprising, given the wide spaces available all over, and it made him a little uncomfortable. His tail twitched in the shared space between seats. The tiger wasn't sure what to do about it, so he fell back to the gold standard of handling oddities on the bus. He ignored it, and stared out the window.

The city rolled by.

He slowly became aware of his ears flicking around, tracking a quiet sound. It was rhythmic, pulsing, and punctuated. His ears focused on the seat behind him. Cocking his head slightly he could make out a faint melody, probably a song playing on headphones. Something soothing and new-agey. The mystery fox started humming along quietly behind him. For some reason the song grabbed Wes's interest, and he wanted to hear more.

"Oh, so relaxing," the vulpine sighed under his breath. Wes found himself agreeing. The music was clearer, the melody easier to make out. Wes slid back in his seat a little more.

"When you work hard, you deserve to feel good."

The comments were strange, maybe it was some kind of meditation routine? He did work hard. He deserved to feel good.

"Breathe in," the stranger quietly instructed. Wes found him self following along. "Breathe out." Wes felt the stress of the day flowing away as he exhaled. After several cycles he felt quite contented and calm, almost drowsy.

The sound shifted and moved. "This music is a gift to be shared. Enjoy," whispered the fox as the music seemed to close in. Realization crossed the tigers mind only a moment before the headphones were slipped over his ears. He drew a startled breath, his eyes wide. No one else on the bus seemed to notice the transgression, and he froze facing forward, unsure of how to react. The music washed over him.

"Breathe out." He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, still unsure how to respond to the unusual fur behind him. His thoughts were confused, but he found an anchor in the rhythmic music. He could hear the full range and detail, the beautiful layered tones carrying him along.

"It's so relaxing, isn't it? Finding yourself sinking deeper and deeper." He could feel breath on his cheek, whispering through the music in his ears. "Just letting go of your thoughts from the day. Listening closely to the music."

Wes felt his thoughts dissipating, unimportant. He sunk further and further into the music. He could almost hear a voice under the music, or was that the fox behind him?

It was nice.

"Time to wake up."

Huh? Wes blinked. He had apparently zoned out while listening to the music, and he wasn't sure for how long. The tiger straightened up in his seat and checked a passing street sign. He was relieved that he was still far from his stop. He removed the headphones. "Uh, thanks," he said, passing them back to the fox behind him. The stranger took the headphones with a knowing grin, replying "Your pleasure is all mine." Wes thought the phrasing was a little odd. He faced forward again, hoping it was the end of the bizarre episode.

"Do you know what I like best about that song?" the vulpine continued, apparently oblivious to the feline's distress. "How fast it works its way into your mind. How thoroughly it overrides everything else. How it surfaces the subconscious. How it takes away the burden of control." Wes thought these observations were a lot odd.

"You're so relaxed you can hardly move, but then you don't really need to. I can give you everything you want," the fox explained. "For example, you wouldn't need to move anything but your tail if you wanted me to play with it. Is that something you want?"

The tiger wanted to tell him off for the inappropriate suggestion, but to his surprise he couldn't move. His relaxed muscles wouldn't engage, wouldn't turn his head, or flex his paw. In fact, to the tiger's surprise, the only thing rising seemed to be his panic, and his tail, which was curling upward into the waiting hands of the fox.

His embarrassment, surprise, and fear clashed behind his relaxed demeanor. Sure he enjoyed a little tail play, but with a stranger on the bus? Thoughts of getting caught and banned from the transit system were shattered by the foxes first stroke from the middle of his tail all the way to the end. The sensation was electric. His tail twitched, and his heart beat faster, but the rest of his relaxed body refused to react, and the tickling tingling sensation crackled through his trapped mind.

The stroking and tugging continued from behind him, maddeningly out of view. "You're pretty excitable. Don't worry, you can't move and no one will pay you any attention. Except for me." He ran his hands all the way from the base of the long tail to the end, then held the tip as it twitched in place.

It was the excitement that was the problem. Thrilling and troubling. The fear, the exposure. The mystery of the stranger, the lack of boundaries. The wonderful sensations from his tail, and the lack of reaction from his body. Well... there was one other part of his body that was beginning to react. He couldn't look down, but the throbbing and pressure from his groin was uncomfortably familiar. Wes was conflicted, the sensations felt amazing, but he felt so exposed. He glanced around, and no one in front of him appeared to notice anything, but he couldn't actually turn his head to see across the aisle, much less behind him. He couldn't help conjuring a mental image of someone sneaking a glance over the top of a book, or a surreptitious picture. It could be getting posted right now, his predicament trending, hashtag #busboner. Why did those thoughts only make him harder?

Wes could feel a padded digit, maybe a thumb, flicking over the end of his tail, while the other hand traced different stripes around and around. "If you want some more fun, there's a little something I left in your suggestion box during your nap," his tormentor teased. Wes tried to furrow his brow to no effect. "If you want to amp things up a bit, visualize plugging your tail into an electrical outlet. I'll leave the results as a surprise."

Wes couldn't help but visualize a scene, with him holding the end of his tail. Oddly enough there were electrical prongs sticking out through the fur, and a socket on the nearby wall. He hesitated for a moment, worried about what it would do. What other furs would think. About the control he was giving up. A hint of fear and anticipation as to what the surprise was. None of those worries stopped his imagined hand from moving toward the socket, and as the outlet sparked in his mind he realized he really did want this. The scene vanished in a flash.

Nothing changed.

Then the fox flicked his thumb over the end of his tail one more time, and he felt it. Twice. The same thumb that caressed his tail seemed to caress his hardened length at exactly the same time. "Oh, there it is. You're all wired up now," his captor observed playfully. He ran the thumb around the tiger's tip, the exquisite feelings making it hard to tell one tip from the other. He felt a paw grab the middle of his tail, which didn't seem to mirror the sensations. As the hand slowly caressed it's way past stripe after stripe the anticipation built.

Wes was desperate to whine, or growl, or moan, but it was all bottled up behind his neutral relaxed features, his face almost dopey and bored hiding the ecstasy churning just behind the mask. The tension working its way down his tail seemed to crest past a point that was shared at the root of his linked anatomy. It was like a stroke that began inside him, tickling something deep and sensitive. The paw ended the stroke by grabbing his stiff length. Tail. It was hard to tell them apart.

His tail was raised, along with his fears of someone noticing, but they were washed away by the fox's tongue running down the end. The tiger's reaction ricocheted around his outwardly relaxed body for a moment before he could catch up and understand it. The fur and pelt was tugged by the wet tongue, like grooming, with a rolling edge of contact, the march of damp fur twinging free and falling back into place. His tail curled at the familiar sensation. His length throbbed at the entirely unfamiliar mirrored sensation.

"You're breathing pretty fast for someone so relaxed," the fox observed. The desperate internal tension warring with his external calm made the tiger's thoughts slippery. The tension was building at one point faster than elsewhere, and he could barely worry about what that would mean. It was somehow more intense on the bus, with all those furs nearby. It felt amazing, but that didn't make it right, did it? Those devious paws made an excellent counter argument when they threaded his tail between two warm thighs and pressed it up against an even warmer hardness to drive the point home. Wes conceded the argument to the warm valley holding his tail and, by proxy, his maleness against the taut cloth restraining the foxes rhetorical device.

"Controlling you is exhilarating, by the way," his captor whispered behind the tiger's head. "Knowing you can't move has my blood rushing over to meet you," the stranger emphasized with a small thrust and a stroke. "I hope your... tail is leaking as much as I am."

His tail felt damp, but the fur was still fluffy. It was a confusing combination until Wes sorted out that he was leaking from the opposite appendage. The cotton of his boxer shorts felt damp as well, and a pang of fear pulsed over him. He couldn't see if his slacks were showing a spot yet, but at this rate it was inevitable. The embarrassment welled up in him, but his usual blush response didn't translate through relaxed facial muscles. Instead, it seemed to have only one outlet, causing his length to twitch harder and make another donation to the spot he was sure was growing across his crotch.

"I think we're coming to the end of the ride," the fox noted as he increased his pace. Wes felt the throbbing heat on one side, and the strokes and teasing flicks across the tip of his tail on the other, slowly pushing him to the limit. Then the vulpine shifted his body, slouching down in his seat a bit, and at the same time raising the end of the tigers tail so he could run one hand after the other over the entire end, again and again. It was a loosing battle, and Wes could feel his shaft leaking into his tented crotch with each stroke. All the tension had only one place to go, the forgone conclusion barreling down on him.

Moments before the wave of release crested, the fox took the end of the linked tail into his muzzle fully, and firmly drew his tongue and lips along the length, holding the tip in his mouth, and flicking his tongue back and forth across it. The wave crashed over the poor restrained tiger and he came, his cock releasing spurt after spurt of his seed. The sensations from his tail didn't stop, and kept the momentum of release going for several extra rounds. And through it all his face was placid and his shoulders relaxed. For a moment he was impressed that the fox managed to swallow his entire load without breaking his rhythm, until he realized he was once again confusing the sensations. The shock of fear returned as he realized what that meant, but it couldn't cut through the afterglow just yet.

The fox gave a final gentle stroke to his tail and it let it fall back behind the seat. "Well, this is where I get off." The 'Stop Requested' light lit up with a familiar 'Ding'. "You could join me, if that's what you want." As the fox walked down the isle past him Wes turned his head to follow, then realized he had regained control. The offer played in his mind as the bus pulled over to the stop at the side of the road.

Wes pulled his briefcase over the dark stain on his crotch, and made his decision.